


A walk in the forest

by aussiemel1



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Exhaustion, Gen, Magical Trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 03:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4044301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiemel1/pseuds/aussiemel1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pythagoras is cursed to walk endlessly and it makes him unpleasant company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A walk in the forest

**Author's Note:**

> This is an odd little story, I blame it entirely on the hc_bingo prompts I got of magical trouble, exhaustion and insomnia. This is the result. Set after Grey Sisters.

It was a punishment borne of clumsiness. And it was disproportionately harsh. Pythagoras was not a malicious person, not the sort to deliberately trample an altar and offerings to the God, and when it was hidden in long grass, surely he shouldn’t be held accountable.

He pressed fingers into his burning eyes and wondered if it were possible to walk and sleep at the same time. Without causing grievous injury. That was the rub. He could close his eyes anytime he wanted, but probably break his leg a few seconds later.

“Talk to me,” Pythagoras demanded. “Tell me anything.”

“Oh. Um.” Jason looked down at his feet, then twisted his head and glanced over his shoulder as if seeking an escape. “Like what?”

“I don’t care. It does not matter, I just need the distraction.”

“Right.” Jason drew in a breath through his teeth and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” He chuckled to himself, shook his head lightly and murmured, “I don't know if you're ready for that.”

Pythagoras furrowed his brow, clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Why do you do that? Why are you so oblique? Honestly, I have never known a man less plain. It is not your best quality.”

Jason grinned, taking no offense. “You are really unpleasant when you’re tired. I don’t think I’ve seen this side of you before.”

“You have seen me tired,” the blond man returned with less heat in his voice. Anger and resentment were boiling inside him but it wasn’t Jason’s fault and he shouldn’t bear the brunt of it. “And I am sure you have seen me unpleasant.”

Jason flicked his brows up and down and it could have indicated a yes or a no. He turned his head around trying to get his bearings. “Are we walking toward Hercules? It's hard to tell if we’re going in a circle or heading for Athens.”

“If we were heading to Athens we would be in a boat,” Pythagoras pointed out.

“You know what I mean.”

A deep sigh escaped Pythagoras. “We are wandering aimlessly. As we have done for the last two days.” He shook his head and gazed skyward but couldn’t do it for too long in case he missed an obstacle in his path and tripped over. “All I wanted was some herbs. A lovely day, a nice walk in the forest. I was not looking for trouble.” He turned plaintive eyes to Jason, seeking his understanding.

“I know,” his friend returned with a small tilt of his head and a rueful smile.

It was terribly unfair. A hidden altar in long grass – who could anticipate that? Or the overreaction at crushing it underfoot? He had stopped immediately when he had realized what he had done, tried to make amends, bring the pieces back together but it was beyond repair.

An old woman had appeared from the mouth of a nearby cave and in hindsight, she could have warned him, Pythagoras couldn’t help but think that she had watched and waited to see if he would stumble into her sacred space, and when he had, she had reacted unreasonably, shouting and flinging her arms about. She was possibly insane, there was certainly an air of it about her, completely deaf to his apologies, to his offer to make reparations, spewing threats and abuse like he had attacked her personally.

Hercules had quickly stridden to his side, put a hand to his back and moved him along, putting an end to his apologetic protestations. And that appeared to be the end of the matter, an unfortunate incident from which they had hastily retreated. Until some time later, when Pythagoras had wanted to stop for a drink and found that he couldn’t. He physically could not stop his feet from moving. It was the strangest sensation, of his feet and brain no longer being in communication, it had taken him a few minutes to understand that it was real, to make a concerted effort to halt and discover that it was impossible. And then it had been very difficult to explain to his companions. Because it was ridiculous. Apparently- all the evidence pointed to- Pythagoras was cursed. Cursed to walk endlessly. His feet would not stop. Not until his friends had bodily tried to make him still did they concede it might be true, and the gravity of the situation set in.

It hadn’t been difficult to work out what had caused it. When two peculiar incidents happen within a short space of time, it wasn’t a stretch to assume that one was related to the other.

Hercules had marched back to the cave, looking for the crone, full of outrage and fury, hands balled into fists, muttering dangerously under his breath, his friends trailing helplessly behind. As they trudged through the undergrowth, nearing the destination, Pythagoras had been afraid of what might occur. If the woman had cursed him to eternal footsteps for stepping on an altar, what might she do to Hercules with murder in his eyes? He had tried to talk his large friend out of retribution, tried to make him see sense but Hercules wore a stony, determined expression that was going to end in someone dying and it was a relief to discover that the woman had fled.

And so they had walked. As a three initially. But as light turned to deep shadow, and then darkness it seemed unnecessary that they should all walk and Pythagoras had suggested that his friends make camp and he would walk in circles around them. It was possibly the dullest night of his life, tramping through the dark in a path that kept him within sight of the fire. While one friend slept, the other would watch. He stumbled, more than once, plunged headlong into the leaf strewn forest floor, acquiring scratches and bruises all over, but his body would not allow him to stay down for long, there was a compulsion to get up, an infuriating automatism that could not be overridden.

Shadows were getting longer on the second day and Pythagoras was facing the prospect of another dull night of trudging. His anger was deep and boundless, fueled by exhaustion, and righteous indignation.

“Where did you grow up?” Pythagoras asked suddenly, _testing_ , testing his friend in an irrational, stubborn way that only tiredness could provoke. Why couldn’t they talk about it? What was the big secret? Usually he was sensitive and circumspect about Jason’s past, aware it was a sore subject, but today he wanted to understand, he felt entitled to answers.

“Did you know the Earth is moving around the sun?” Jason returned, like he hadn’t heard the question.

 _Deflection_ , Pythagoras thought in disgust. _So obvious_. And not even a good deflection.

“No, it is not,” Pythagoras dismissed, and tried to get the conversation back on track. “Did you even grow up in Greece?”

“It really is,” Jason insisted. “And there are…” he counted on his fingers, whispering under his breath, “eight other planets moving around the same sun.”

The mathematician shook his head impatiently. “Clearly we are not moving. I mean the ground underneath us is not moving. Why would you say something so ridiculous?”

Jason dimpled a knowing smile. “It’s true. If memory serves, the Earth is moving quite fast too.” His forehead creased. “But don’t quote me on that.”

“I won't quote you on anything,” Pythagoras returned, his tone edged in irritation. “You are talking nonsense. And avoiding my question.”

“I’m actually giving you a gift,” the dark haired man said, impossibly evasive. “I could name all the planets orbiting the sun and then you and I would be the only men alive who know them.”

Jason got a thoughtful look in his eye and raised his brows as if impressed by it. Pythagoras couldn’t understand why he was persisting with the lie, perhaps he honestly thought it was true, Jason's knowledge was always suspect.

“I sometimes wonder about your sanity,” Pythagoras said, trying to annoy his friend and not really sure why, trying to provoke an angry response even though it made no sense. He felt like a different person. Two days of walking with no sleep was turning him into someone he didn’t know.

Jason chuckled good-naturedly. “I often wonder about my sanity.”

“You are not quite normal are you?” _Objectionable_. He could recognize it but he couldn’t stop it.

“No,” Jason admitted.

“How do you think Ariadne will react to that?”

For the first time Jason faltered, his bearing stiffened, tightened and Pythagoras found that interesting, that you could insult Jason personally and it would roll over him, but introduce someone he loved into the conversation and he bristled. It said something about his friend. There was too much misfiring in his brain to figure out what it was, but it said something.

“Ariadne knows me well enough,” Jason said defensively.

“She knows you not at all,” Pythagoras insisted. “I mean, I barely know you, how could she possibly? And you would take her for your wife, do you think that is fair?”

“Fair for who?” Jason asked reluctantly.

“Ariadne. The woman who will never know you.”

Jason’s anger bubbled to the surface. “What is the fascination with my history? Who cares where I grew up? What does it matter?”

“It is not the history that matters, it is the secrecy, and the lack of trust it implies.”

Jason abruptly stopped walking, a move that Pythagoras could not follow. The mathematician glanced over his shoulder with a questioning look and Jason said curtly, “You walk on ahead and I’ll follow behind.”

A forced end to the conversation. And Pythagoras felt both perversely delighted and somewhat ashamed at having nudged his friend too far. _Tired_ , he thought. _I am tired and disagreeable_. And he wondered how it might end. They were going to have to devise a way for him to sleep while walking or he would be friendless within a few days.

They finally arrived back at the makeshift camp, Hercules rising to his feet at their approach.

“He’s all yours,” Jason said evenly, the silent walk giving him an opportunity to cool his temper, a hint of humor in his tone, or maybe it was relief.

Walking with Hercules was different. Hercules filled the silence without prompting, regaled Pythagoras with stories of unlikely deeds and even more unlikely villains. ( _Did I ever tell you that I wrestled a giant?_ ) Pythagoras didn't feel the same need to poke at him that he had with Jason, probably because he knew all about Hercules, they had known each other so long, revealed so much over the years that there was nothing to poke about.

As they trampled through the undergrowth Pythagoras' feet were achingly sore, his soles were blistering uncomfortably and he wondered how long he could do this. How long could a person walk before dropping dead? They needed to figure out a solution to the curse before he dropped dead.

He tripped over his own feet, so tired his vision was starting to haze and sprawled onto the ground.  Quickly he rolled onto his back so that he could gaze at the sky knowing he had about a minute of relaxation before the compulsion to rise would force him to his feet. The canopy of trees interrupted his vista but there was enough of the blue for him to get lost in, clouds that stretched and moved slowly and hypnotized him into closing his eyes.

“Pythagoras!” Hercules shouted gleefully, causing Pythagoras to snap open his eyes in alarm. “You've stopped moving! You're not moving."  He ran a hand across his face and exhaled his relief, "Praise the Gods, the stupid curse is at an end.”

“Really?” Pythagoras said dully, a little confused, and not quite trusting it to be true.

“Come on.” Hercules fisted hands into the material at his chest and lifted Pythagoras to his feet.

“No,” the mathematician weakly complained, feeling like he had walked enough, he was entitled to lie on the ground for a while.

“Just get back to the camp. Jason will want to know it’s over.”

Hercules kept an arm around Pythagoras as they trudged back to the meeting point. Now that he knew he could sleep Pythagoras wanted it desperately, _desperately_. Every step felt like a punishment and resentment swelled in his chest at Hercules making him walk.

Finally, _finally_ , the camp came into view, the fire nothing more than angry embers, the flames having burned out.

“Where's Jason,” Hercules mumbled and as if in answer their friend became visible through the trees, walking toward them. His expression was dark, his steps heavy and even in his exhausted daze Pythagoras knew what he had done, it was written on his face.

“Oh Jason,” Pythagoras whispered, feeling unworthy of the guilt his friend would bear at taking the life of an old woman for his benefit.

“Where did you go?” Hercules enquired, as the dark haired man drew closer.

“For a walk,” he returned nonchalantly.

“Pythagoras is returned,” the big man announced triumphantly, spreading his hands in a grand gesture. “He is no longer cursed.”

Jason gazed at Pythagoras with a smile that gave no light to his eyes. “I'm very glad to hear it.”

With a sob in his throat that wasn't entirely appropriate, emotion out of kilter, Pythagoras wrapped his arms around his young friend. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Please forgive me.”

Jason breathed a small laugh and said with bemusement, “There is nothing to forgive.” Pythagoras squeezed him a little tighter for demanding nothing of him after he’d been so disagreeable.

“Ariadne will love you,” Pythagoras offered by way of apology.

“Wow, you really need to sleep,” Jason stated with honest amusement, and disentangled from Pythagoras’ arms. “Come on, right here. Get a couple hours of sleep then we’ll go home.”

Pythagoras was only too happy to comply. The ground was rough and hard and he didn't care, he ached inside and out and being still was a luxury, the earth felt as good as a feather mattress.

As sleep pulled at Pythagoras, his eyes closed, he heard Hercules deep voice rumble, “What did you do?”

“You know what I did,” Jason replied in a flat voice.

“Yeah.” Hercules blew out a breath. “Yeah.  It had to be done. Thank you for being the one to do it.”

"You would have done the same," Jason dismissed.

"Yes," Hercules solemnly agreed, "I would have."

And with the sounds in his ears of friends who would kill for him, Pythagoras fell asleep.


End file.
